


All Its Birds

by KrisseyCrystal (AisukuriMuStudio)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: But like it's kinda vague so it could be after any LoZ game, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, I just had to dust it off a bit but it's here, King Link, Post-Game(s), Queen Zelda, almost any LoZ game, because I'm a sap, er - Freeform, here have an ancient oneshot that I found somewhere in the depths of my old files, no like there's literally nothing else here but lazy fluff, prbly works best post-TP but what do I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AisukuriMuStudio/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Their journeys have both been long and arduous. It's hard for either to believe that they can have this, now:  gentle moments such as these, nestled together under the covers and christening the midnight hour with a good book.Makes them think how lucky they are.





	All Its Birds

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit I found this ancient oneshot that I think I was intending to make into something else like a multi-chaptered thing, but never did. And now I revised it a bit, polished it off, added a quote, and decided to publish it because I still kinda like it. So here. Have mushy ZeLink.
> 
> (This is kinda vaguely not attached to any sort of LoZ game, but maybe best with post-TP. Idk. Stick it wherever you like.)

The crinkle of an old page resounded throughout the bedroom. A quiet giggle and chuckle followed as king and queen lay together, sitting up against the head of the bed; their hearts were full of mirth. The hearths of their souls were kindled and gently burning like the candle at their bedside, warming their bodies to their fingertips as they readied themselves for the tale they were about to read.

It was a dear favorite.

Link, king of Hyrule, began the story. The rumbling of his hushed voice lulled his dear queen who leaned on his arm, dreamily listening as her husband brought the words to life; an ability she was terribly fond of.

"There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers, who were all brothers, for they had been made of the same old tin spoon…"

Zelda, a royal since childhood, closed her eyes as her husband wove the old childhood story into being. She listened to the inflection in his voice, the calm smoothness of it, and the great slow care he took in reading it to her, as if it were a piece of wood he were slowly carving, shaving by shaving, into a whittled masterpiece.

He seemed to have the same great slow care with everything else he did, too—even when making decisions regarding their beloved Hyrule—and for this, she was grateful. She knew him to be a reckless man by nature, particularly when it came to the danger of his loved ones. Without thinking of himself, he would dive into whatever perils awaited, sword and shield in hand to fight his way through the gates of Hell itself in order to protect and defend.

But when it came to his country, or his queen, he was a very careful, guarded man. Wisdom, while not his natural gift, was slowly manifesting itself in him, binding itself with his inhuman amount of courage.

Perhaps it was because she, herself was rubbing off on him. But that was only a thought—one she enjoyed entertaining—and one that admittedly, probably did not have much truth behind it.

"…'That is the wife for me,' he thought," and at this point, Link looked at her mischievously, blue eyes twinkling merrily in tease, like he did every time they read this story. Zelda found her face heat up and playfully put a light slap on his arm—to which her dear one only chuckled and resumed reading—but this time, with much more endearing sincerety. "'But she is too grand, and lives in a castle, while I have only a box to live in, five-and-twenty of us altogether, and that is no place for her. Still, I must try and make her acquaintance…'"

So the tale wove on, and Zelda found herself captivated by all the trials the little one-legged tin solder underwent, all the while facing every obstacle with a hard, stone-faced courage. Never once did his grip waver on his musket and never once did he stop hoping for his paper ballerina princess—that she might somehow be at the end of every new trouble. His bravery was commendable and was comparable only to the man of whose arm she held onto while he ended the tragic tale.

"…The tin soldier melted down into a lump, and the next morning, when the maid servant took the ashes out of the stove, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, which was burnt black as cinder."

Link's voice quieted down to nothing, as an ember's flame cut off from oxygen, and with slow deliberateness, he closed the book of old fables. There was silence—a sort of respect, Zelda thought it was, that both she and her husband gave in reverence to an imaginary world that had shown them its treasures, and to the little tin soldier, who tried…but never got that which his heart pined for.

Zelda shifted on the bed, making herself more comfortable. Her neck was beginning to cramp. "I always feel so sorry for the little tin soldier," she murmured quietly.

Link shifted as well, moving over to place the book on their bedside table and to blow out the candle that illuminated the room. Once they were enveloped in the darkness of night, he moved back to her, sliding under the covers fully—which she, too, did—and took her in his arms. It was then he finally answered. "I, as well."

Zelda looked up at him, seeing only the outline of his strong jaw in the shadow. "You and him are very similar, you know." Her voice was full of warmth.

"Hmm…" Link seemed to take this into consideration. Zelda could feel his chest rise and fall next to her as he breathed quietly. She secretly always loved that, too—that constant reminder he was alive and well. That they really had made it through all those events three years ago, and that this man—now the love of her life—had successfully saved her and their beloved kingdom.

But the idea of Link, clothed like the green-clad hero of old, melting away until there was nothing left but a little tin heart, while she melted away to nothing but a burnt rose—Zelda found the corner of her mouth twitch downwards.

It was what could have been, but not was.

Link kissed on the top of her head of dark golden locks, as if he could see her face and know what weighed heavy her thoughts. "I love you, my queen," he whispered, his voice soothing as the brush of the sea upon the shore.

Zelda laid her head upon his chest, feeling the rising and falling tide of his heartbeat. Like a loosened knot, the frown eased from her face. "And I, you, my king," she whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> _so doesn't that make the universe a giant lottery, then? you purchase a ticket when you're born. and it's all just random whether you get a good ticket or a bad ticket. it's all just luck._
> 
> _my head swirls on this, but then softer thoughts soothe, like a flatted third on a major chord. no, no, it's not all random, if it really was all random, the universe would abandon us completely. and the universe doesn't. it takes care of its most fragile creations in ways we can't see...maybe it is a lottery, but the universe makes it all even out in the end. the universe takes care of **all its birds.**_
> 
> \- _Wonder,_ by R.J. Palacio


End file.
